Somehow, the label is more important than one’s ideas of truth. Perhaps it is because religion/faith/life philosophy is not really seen as a search or yearning for or relationship to truth. If that is the case, what then is it seen as? Community? Humanism? Charity? Fairy tales?

A very large part of me just wants to give up. I enjoy studying and writing on the topic, but people do not seem to want to discuss in a meaningful way. The taboo on the topic of religion has creeped even into academic circles. Whether they are the most educated or the most down-to-earth, it must to be a human condition to choose to fight rather than reason, to coerce rather than empathize, and to, at the very least, not care about why they do things. I know this is because we are not perfect creatures, but this etiology does not ameliorate my disgust of the human and, importantly, of my own condition.

To illustrate my current disgust, I will tell you how I spent my friday: I re-read Richard Dawkins’ God Delusion. Now, why would I want to do that to myself? Why would I read poor philosophy? Why would I read a beginner’s introduction to New Atheism?

I’ll tell you why: Dawkins wants to actually discuss religion in a serious and relevant way. He is wrong about a lot of things in the book. Yet, his passion for discourse is faultless. He does not back away from taboo topics. Amidst his mischaracterizations and pseudo-philosophy is the head-on confrontation of serious issues that really matter. He discusses them and their necessary implications. I couldn’t put the book down. I read the entire book in 24 hours. Again, not because I think it is good scholarship (though he is a wonderful artisan of prose). I enjoyed reading it because I felt like someone was at least willing to have dialogue about religion and, most importantly, its implications.

There are blogs I read that give me the same satisfaction (see, e.g., my good friend Michael Duenes’ RussellandDuenes blog). And I have friends that are willing to discuss these issues. But, I must admit that I feel like academically rigorous and open debate on religion is lacking. It seems, to me at least, that the study of ethical philosophy is getting lonely these days. I would love for someone to show me that I am wrong.

Precisely because he himself is constantly in process of becoming inwardly or inwardness, the religious individual can never use direct communication [to express the eternal], the movement in him being the precise opposite of that presupposed in direct communication. Direct communication presupposes certainty; but certainty is impossible for anyone in process of becoming, and the semblance of certainty constitutes for such an individual a deception. Thus, to make use of a romantic relationship, if a loving maiden were to long for the wedding day on account of the assured certainty that it would giver her; if she desired to install herself as wife in a legal security, exchanging maidenly longing for wifely yawning, her lover would have the right to complain of her unfaithfulness, even though she loved no one else; because she had lost the Idea constitutive of the inwardness of love, and did not really love him.

The masses have bought into Keynesian economics. Relatives of mine with no economic training supported the 2008 financial bailout because it “was necessary” or else the consequences will be worse (or, in President Bush’s terms, we must depart from free market principles to save the free market). Keep in mind, they have no scholarly economic training whatsoever. Yet, if I had told them they should stay in perpetual debt and I will devalue their money a little everyday so they can’t save it, they would surely protest. Why is it different when the government does this to our money? Why is it pleasing to the untrained eye, no matter what side of the political perspective?

There are a few explanations. First, one could argue that the adoption of Keynesian theory is the result of a massive PR campaign. Because both political parties and pundits of all persuasions supported the bailout of 2008, the public was convinced. Such a consensus among elites, if developed from all sides of the political spectrum, could surely not be wrong. Another explanation is that people just don’t understand and don’t care to. Perhaps they have an inkling to protest, but no real will.

The above explanations I wish to throw out, not because they are wrong per se. I simply wish to analyze the situation under the assumption that people are basically (but not necessarily consistently) rational and politically aware enough to vote. I would argue that the success of any representative government is dependent upon these factors

Given my above assumptions, what can explain the seemingly widespread public adoption of Keynesian theory? I posit that the answer is human depravity. Keynesian economics is tempting; we give in.

Temptations to act in immoral and irrational ways, by definition, work alongside human nature. It wouldn’t be a temptation if one were not tempted. In other words, the reason we are drawn to something that, in the end, brings us no profit, is because our animalistic, non-thinking senses are deceived into thinking it will. Yes, I am actually contending that we use our conscious minds to combat our unconscious urges.

This argument is applicable to most worldviews. For example, it does not require that we self-sacrifice. Though I believe self-sacrifice is a component of truth, love, meaning, and purpose, it is not necessary that one share this worldview for one to see his own depravity. Even the strict rationalist can be tempted, for they will fall short of being rational often when they let their animal urge override reason. In other words, nature and existence include hints that we fall short of perfection. Revelation of the law of some deity does this in a clearer manner, but with the same goal.

Returning to economics, Keynesianism is tempting. Despite common sense otherwise, we are assured that immediate gratification (along with irrational debt management and the distribution of our wealth to the wealthy via inflation) will benefit us. We buy the myth because we want to, then we eat the forbidden fruit.

A theory like Keynesianism should be looked at as suspiciously as studies showing that sex increases longevity or that eating chocolate is good for one’s heart. Disregarding to the intellectual merit of the arguments, we need be suspicious because the conclusion is convenient, something we wish to be true. Of course, not many people adequately hold such suspicion.

In sum, I believe there is a moral cause to the widespread adoption of Keynesian economics. Even without delving too far into a specific ethical code, it is clear that human imperfection inspires people to accept Keynesianism. We creatures of habit do not like the idea that economic downturns may require a change in spending habits. We progress-focused Americans do not like the idea that we may have to spend a lifetime saving, not for our college, but for our children’s education. No, instead, we want to smoke our economy now and leave the lung cancer for later- all while convincing ourselves that a cure will be found by then. We believe the predictions that a cure will come because we want to believe, not because we have reason to.

Reason is so inconvenient sometimes: it dares to require we conform our actions to a standard.

You are nothing like two roommates trying to negotiate over “that’s yours and this is mine.” You are not entering into a business transaction of shared assets and mutual interests. You are not merely looking for permanent companionship while you pursue your own separate dreams. I know you know this, but it sure is easy to fall into it. You are, in fact, becoming “one flesh,” entering into real spiritual union, reflecting the indissoluble union between Christ and His redeemed people. Your attachment now means, among other things, a union of body, a union of soul, a union of name, a union of possessions, a union of time, a union of talents, a union of labor, a union of parenthood (should God desire it), a union of dreams and a union of destiny. And this is true even when you are pursuing separate vocations or hobbies. It is a union forged and held together by the grace and love of our Father God, and so you can have great confidence in Him as you relinquish “control” over your lives and give yourselves to each other and to him as husband and wife. So my charge to you today is to reflect on this union regularly and live in light of it, for it refers to Christ and the Church.

In this passage, commands are given regarding procedures of sacrifice. They are elaborate, almost maliciously so at some points. In verse 13 though, the passage climaxes, saying that the burning of the elaborate sacrifices will be as an aroma pleasing to God.

In life, we are often told that when our plans don’t work out, it’s not meant to be. That, somehow, they conflict with God’s plans for us. This is stupid. God’s plans always happen – he’s God.

The other side of that coin is when we are told that we aren’t trying hard enough or aren’t good enough at what we are trying to do. This is also not always true. There are so many variables contributing to success that to say our plans or efforts are futile based on a few defeats does not make sense.

If neither is true, it would seem like God’s plan may mean we suffer sometimes, that our life is meant to be spent struggling. Instead of searching for that point at which things become easy, what if we simply continued a lifelong struggle? Victory need not come for us to have purpose – for us to be truly authentic to ourselves.

Like the fire that burns through the elaborate sacrifices, our toil, effort, and pain is all part of the beauty of life. As Ecclesiastes says, the whole duty of man is enjoy his work and fear God. Instead of feeling like underachievers, perhaps we ought to view ourselves as salmon swimming upstream.

The fire that we encounter in life, though burning through the conceptual persons we think we should be, produces an aroma pleasing to God. If we understand that, and consequently live our lives like the sacrifices we were meant to be, then we will be content in having found our authentic selves; for, then, we will have found ourselves in the One True Self.

Unfortunately, fear is one of those English words with many definitions and various connotations to each of those. Fear can be a justified expression of panic in the face of danger. Fear can also be a state of perceiving – justified or not – coercive threat. Fear is further used to describe deep respect born of out the obvious and justified supremacy of the object of one’s fear.

The first two definitions have very negative connotations. The first, seemingly unavoidable, is seen as a natural reaction to a danger. However, most of the time, that danger is not accepted as a good thing. In fact, the natural inclination driving us to fear is seen as a mechanism indicating we should avoid the fear-causing situation. Thus, there is still a concept of “something that shouldn’t be” in the object of the fear.

The second definition is negative because, many times, it is deceitful. The second form of fear exists when there is no danger yet present, but one acts in such a way as to either prepare for, or bow to, a future danger. An example would be a wife living in fear that her husband may hurt her due to his alcoholic tendencies. The danger may not exist at all, but a perceived possible danger causes her to change her behavior. Again, this is seen as a negative fear.

The third definition, though, is not negative. To fear the ocean, to, as a child, fear one’s parents – these are seen as natural, even wise. This type of fear drives one to change one’s behavior, not because of imminent force or a perceived threat of future force; rather, one changes one’s behavior as a result of an almost scientific law of respect. By that I mean, disrespecting or not fearing the ocean will bring unavoidable, and just, consequences.

This third type of fear is distinguished from the first in that there is no feeling that “something that shouldn’t be.” Indeed, even surfers that fear the ocean still surf – the fear exists but there is no avoiding the object of one’s fear. Indeed, many times the object is seen as unavoidable.

The third type is also distinguishable from the second type in that it is, while maybe not imminent, definitely automatic. There is a sense in which we know that lack of fear will automatically result in consequences. The consequences are inevitable as they are part of the nature of the very object of fear itself. An example would be the disgust we feel as children when parents are inconsistent in their discipline; for example, this disgust will often manifest itself when parents treat one child differently than they do another child.

In sum, in distinguishing the first two types of fear, I believe we see that the third has a positive connotation because justice inheres within it. That is, the lack of repulsion of the object and the sense of equal, automatic treatment from the object are characteristics we find just.

This third type of fear is that which the scriptures are speaking of when they talk of fearing God. It is a fear derived from a sense of justice. The biblical God, the object of fear, will automatically punish those who disrespect him. Moreover, his qualities (permanence, omnipotence, omniscience, omnipresence) make him unavoidable – it is a law of nature that he is the way he is. He does not vary treatment, he treats all equally. Automatic, unbiased treatment along with unavoidable, static qualities make fear of God a positive fear, not a negative notion.

Why then do so many people refuse to accept even this third fear, when it is applied to God? The answer lies in the fact that it forces one to accept a superior. The truth is, this third fear is rare these days. Sure, surfers speak of respecting the ocean, animal trainers speak of fearing the animals; but modern technology has put so much of our environment under our control, including the things we used to find so fearful. We lack experience of the concept of actually being in a position of natural inferiority. We lack a concept of our place in the food chain.

Even those who accept the third kind of fear in other aspects of life often do so after rationalizing some kind of status equality with the object of fear. For instance, the surfer fears the ocean, but does not see the ocean as superior in a broad scheme of things. Rather, he sees himself as equal with the ocean: as part of a larger ecosystem. Again, we are afraid of the concept of something more powerful encountering our inferiority.

As I have written before, this shows that “Atheists” are not people that do not believe in a god. Atheists lack a fear of something other than themselves. They are their own gods – they only fear themselves. The saying “there are no atheists in a foxhole” captures this idea perfectly. Once one is forced to fear an “other,” even if not in holy fear but rather as one of the negative types of fear, one acknowledges a place on the food chain. One realizes, instinctively, that one is not omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent, and eternal. One realizes that something else must be. As I have discussed elsewhere, there is something in existence that is omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, and eternal. Whether that something is the universe, aliens, or some personal God is another discussion. Nonetheless, it must be said that to criticize Christianity as a faith of “fear” is an observant yet ultimately empty criticism.

From the review:

As Augustine says: “I am and know and will; I am knowing and willing; I know myself to be and to will; I will to be and to know.” There is, therefore, no timeless, disinterested I who stands outside my finite temporal self and serenely knows whatever there is to know; cognition is always a specific historic act accompanied by hope and fear. To realize this is not, again, to abandon as hopeless the search for common sharable truth and surrender to a subjective relativism: on the contrary, it is precisely in the interest of such a common truth, that it is necessary for the individual to begin by learning to be objective about his subjectivity, “to know his station,” to become conscious every time he asks calmly of an object or an event, “What are you?” of his urgent, simultaneous aside, “Be this. Don’t be that.”

And from the text:

When love is conceived as it is in the romances, the individual is merely brought to the point where he will open—with that it ends; or he is about to open but is interrupted. Pride can very well be represented [by Art], for the essential point in pride is not succession but intensity in the moment. Humility is represented with difficulty, because here if anywhere we are dealing with succession . . . and when it is shown in its ideal moment, the beholder senses the lack of something, because he feels that its true ideality does not consist in the fact that it is ideal in the moment but that it is constant. Romantic love can very well be represented in the moment, but conjugal love cannot, because an ideal husband is not one who is such once in his life but one who every day is such. If I would represent a hero who conquers kingdoms and lands, it can very well be represented in the moment, but a cross-bearer who every day takes up his cross cannot be represented either in poetry or in art, because the point is that he does it every day.

Does biblical authority and teaching supercede and inform your “philosophical anarchism?” You would need to justify biblically your view that “everything should be legal.” Frankly, I don’t think you can.

Just to get it out of the way, I want to clarify what is meant by “philosophical anarchism”. If somehow given our world as a tabula rasa, I would choose anarchy as the form of (non) government. Ergo I am forsaking all concerns of practicality – that is what is meant by the “philosophical” designation. Why exactly I choose that form is not pertinent now. I am simply clarifying that my practical political views, ones I would hold in voting or influencing policy, are different than my philosophical ideals.

Now, to the main question. The basic issue is: Does the bible justify any form of government? I firmly believe that it does not.

First, there are multiple forms of government presented in the Bible. The Roman Empire as an Autocracy, Israel as a Monarchy, and the Hebrews as a Theocracy (or Federalized Aristocracy or tribal government, depending upon your view of the rule by the “judges” and God’s inspiration of them). The only time God explicitly condoned a form of government is when he warned Israel that switching from judge-rule to a monarchy would cause problems. However, as documented by many political scientists, monarchy brings some benefits over localized tribal government. God wasn’t giving the Israelites a treatise on political theory so that they could weigh the costs and benefits of their decision. Their decision was not based on political theory; their decision was based on childish passions. They were tired of Samuel’s crooked sons (note: it is very natural for change of form of government to be called for after a poor administration) and they wanted to be “like all the other nations.” I Samuel 8:5. God warned them that they will have even more personal problems with a king. In other words, a king will mismanage as much as, if not more than, God’s prophet-appointed/prophetic judges. Also, a king will demand more resources and servitude. If the Text could be seen as supporting a specific theory of government (which I do not believe it does), it would definitely be promoting limited government. Seeing as restoration of the judge-ruled Theocracy was never called for by Jesus, Paul, or the other New Testament writers, I do not think the point of I Samuel 8 was to promote a specific form of government.

Next, the Bible never seems to call rulers good and bad based upon the effects of their policies. The Bible seems to condemn certain rulers based on the purpose of their policies, not the results. There is, to my knowledge, no example of a king who, while trying to serve God by instituting a policy, was condemned for some result of his policy. There are times when certain characters in the Bible, like Lot, for instance, have a moment of poor judgment (choosing to move to Sodom), and they are sinners, as we all are. But let us remember that even Lot was considered a righteous man. II Peter 2:7-8. It always seems to matter much more that the leaders of Israel follow God, rather than enact certain policies. The Scriptures label those kings evil that fell prey to the worship of false Gods and to building shrines on mountain tops. The Bible also condemns those leaders that enact a policy that has the explicit purpose of being evil (like David sending Uriah to be killed on the front lines so that David could take Bathsheba as his wife). Basically, when the Bible tells rulers to be Godly, it means in their goals and purposes, not in their decision-making. Of course, the decisions must be made to the best of their abilities and in holy service to the One True God, but God does not expect the content of those decisions to conform to a specific political theory.

Finally, the Bible cannot consistently condone a single form of government along with its other messages. More specifically, the New Testament provides continuous examples of the notion that human government is of no import in matters of salvation. Roman Centurions, part of the military that enslaved and ravaged peoples on three continents, became Christians. Roman officials became Christians. Jesus told believers to continue to pay taxes. Paul instructed believers to be good citizens/subjects in so far as it does not conflict with living out the Christian life. There is a clear separation between matters of human institutions and matters of the Christ-fulfilled kingdom. I believe this separation exists because all government is flawed. One of the central messages of the gospel is that we are all sinful. Thus, any government run by us will be incredibly flawed – no matter what form of government it happens to be.

Therefore, because the Bible never favors a specific form of government as inherently better than others, because governors are not judged by their policies but by their purposes, and because all forms of government have the same potential to be equally horrendous, I have concluded that the Bible does not favor a specific form of government.

You may ask, “Why then should Christians participate in government at all? Shouldn’t we support democracy? Isn’t a republic better than Hitler’s Germany? And why is this ‘Joshua House’ guy an anarchist/libertarian/crazy-person?” Excellent questions these all are. However, they are just that – questions, for another day. I will try to answer one of them soon. Stay tuned.

[I love Thanksgiving because it is] America’s only nationalist holiday. The Fourth of July, President’s Day, and even Veterans’ and Memorial Day are celebrations of the nation-state created by the American founding. In short, our other holidays are about patriotism, not nationalism. Thanksgiving meanwhile celebrates a pre-constitutional relationship with the Almighty. I wouldn’t quite say it’s a pre-modern or blood-and-soil holiday, but it is about Providence and the great gift being here, in this place, is. A little mystic nationalism is a good and healthy thing because it provides the emotional sinew that helps us hold onto our patriotism. This country is great and good for many reasons. But one reason for its greatness, too often forgotten, is that it is ours.

Professor Somin responds to Mr. Goldberg by criticizing nationalism in typical libertarian fashion. In short, he says that nationalism is not only unnecessary but also often leads to repression, economic protectionism, and irrational politics.

Rather than offer my own thoughts on nationalism (though I should say that I tend to agree with Professor Somin more than I do with Mr. Goldberg), I want to examine a common problem with this debate. Mr. Goldberg hints at the issue in his statement; the problem is that there is a blurry line between patriotism and nationalism. I often say that most arguments in the world would be immediately solved if people were using the same words to describe the same things. I feel that this is yet another disagreement exacerbated by a definitional mismatch.

First, notice that Mr. Goldberg distinguishes nationalism and patriotism by saying that “celebrations of the nation-state” are patriotic, not nationalistic. It seems likely that Mr. Goldberg thinks that celebrations of the nation, i.e. the people or ethnicity, are nationalistic, while celebrations of the state, at least when tied to the nation, are patriotic. Conversely, Professor Somin defines nationalism as “loyalty to one’s own nation-state based on ties of language, culture, or ethnicity”. We can immediately perceive that Professor Somin’s definition, while including the concepts of language, culture, and ethnicity referred to by Mr. Goldberg, is drastically different because it includes the nation-state.

I think that Professor Somin’s more political concerns (economic/policy-related) are not relevant to Mr. Goldberg’s discussion. Mr. Goldberg is not talking about loyalty to a political entity but rather to a nation or people. However, Professor Somin’s concerns regarding ethnic and cultural bigotry are certainly still pertinent.

Next, I would like to present my own views on the distinction between nationalism and patriotism.

From a purely etymological standpoint, nationalism seems to more accurately refer to loyalty to the nation-state, a political entity with a relatively homogenous culture or ethnicity. The root ‘nation’ is derived from the Latin ‘natio’ which means ‘to be born’. Therefore, a nation is a people with common ancestry. Ties to a nation are based on birth. ‘National’ means ‘of, or relating to, a nation’. Nationalism is a movement or school of thought that a political entity or state should be defined by relations to a nation. Thus, nationalism refers to loyalty to a nation-state, or perhaps loyalty to any state, based on ties of ethnicity or culture.

On the other hand, patriotism can exist, at least in its classical definition, without a state. Patriot is derived from the Latin ‘patriota’, meaning ‘fellow countryman’. ‘Patriota’ was originally derived from the Greek ‘patrios’, which means ‘of one’s fathers’. It follows that one can define patriotism in two ways: Either it is a movement completely based on ties of ethnicity or culture and is a synonym for ‘nation-ism’ or it is a movement based on some kind of figurative meaning of being ‘of one’s fathers’. The first meaning is common usage in our vernacular, while the latter is popular among those who wish to avoid association with a government’s actions.

I tend to agree with the latter, not only because it provides the closest description of my own sentiments, but also because it seems to be the definition the Greek philosophers and poets used. In his Funeral Oration, Pericles (the famous Athenian politician) speaks of the pride of the patriots of Athens. Such patriotism is based on the ideals of justice, law, open foreign policy, and equality of opportunity. Patriotism, in this sense, is related to loyalty to a philosophy and conception of the good, not a state. Thusly, our society developed the idea that a patriot can exist even if he is civilly disobedient (civil disobedience, coincidentally, also has roots in Greece via Socrates).

In sum, the nationalist supports America because it is America and he is American, while the patriot supports America because he agrees with its founding fathers’ goals and ideals. The patriot supports the American state only if it continues in the same traditions proclaimed by its fathers and he has no need to do so, indeed might be required not to, if it were to stray from the ideals of its founding. What those ideals are is an entirely separate debate.